Someone To Die For, Except You're Already Dying
by SweetestRemedy
Summary: A friend moments before death, but yet you still die alone. Read and Review please!


This short story takes place over only a few minutes.

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** S****omeone To Die For, Except You're Already Dying**

** By PHfan21**

Terrible noise punctuated every second, every agonizing second, of her last minutes. Seemingly random sounds coming from every which way, with no pattern, but from this fact without pattern comes forth and there is, in all actuality, pattern. It's all so randomly predictable. Her ears ring with it, with the ghastly screams of pain and fear, of animalistic pleasure and rage. Gunshots pepper the night air, adding to the terrible noise. It does not seem alien to the screams, but seems to oddly fit with it, like how puzzle pieces fit. It all fits together is an awful symphony of death. The noise does not bother her though. It is a back drop, it is the soundtrack of her death, therefore she must enjoy it, because she knows it will be the last thing she ever hears. Pretend the screams are not begging for death, for it all to be _over_, pretend that you're not all going to die, and that you're not just waiting for death. After all, we only live to die. It's easier than you think, to pretend, especially when you're fading. The sounds aren't as clear as they used to be, they jumble together so that you can't tell the difference between the screams of _them_ or the living. It's all blending together now, in an auditory soup of noise.

She lies in a sticky pool of her own blood. It's warm, and the puddle is always getting bigger, growing. The blood is bright against the mud on the ground, it's almost vulgar. But it's mixing together. Rain cascades from the sky, into the mixture of mud and blood, thinning it. The combination is running in rivers away from her. But the blood nearest to her is oh so red. She's swimming in it, there's so much. The rain feels good on her face. It washes away the grime and dirtiness, rinsing it from her, giving her the chance to die clean, in the physical sense. She loves the rain most of all because it hides her tears. Tears and rain run together, one and the same in appearance. The pain is there, she cannot ignore it, but this too she welcomes because there will never be nothing for her, ever again. She will go to sleep, and not even know if a million years pass by because everything will be black for her. Actually, there WILL be no her. This is it, her last time on earth, and she does not want to leave, no matter how horrendous it's become. Because you only live once. She will be dead and that's all there is to it. Her body will rot away in the blink of an eye, and there will be no evidence that she even existed, except maybe the flowers her body will help sprout.

An explosion rocks the ground, it's near, but not near enough, she thinks. Because now she's getting why those people are screaming for death. This wait is _horrible_. The anticipation is killing her more rapidly that her wounds. She knows she's going to die, and knowing is not fun. She doesn't want to go out slowly, but with a bang. Pun intended. She wants to die so fast that she will be dead before she even realizes it, not that she'd be conscious to realize that she's dead…

The tears still roll down her face. They're born in her eyes, and die on her lips. The rain has cleaned away the filth on her skin, but blood is still pumping sluggishly from her. She wishes to raise her arm, possibly to wave goodbye to a world that was never good to her, but never harsh, but the weakness in herself surprised her and her arm was unable to complete its journey up. Instead she changed its course, and her fingertips gently brushed her lips. The soft touch transferred blood from her fingers onto her lips. Bewildered, she did not know her hands were covered in the offensive red. There is so much, and it is so _thick_. Her hand is held suspended in the air for a few moments, her eyes captivated by the steady and methodic dripping of the gore, the fat drops descending down, down until it splashed very elegantly on her soaked jeans. Finally she has grown much too weak to keep her arm there, and it falls unceremoniously into the puddle of her most vital juice. She slumps, her chin resting on her chest, because she is just so tired…weights sit on her eyelids, weighing them down, it's so hard to hold them up, they begin to drift close. They are down to slits, when a new sound invades her senses. Crying. Someone is crying, like her, and they're nearby. With quite a bit of effort she opens her eyes wide to find the mysterious crier. Looking for the crier is like a game of Where's Waldo?, everything is blood, mud, or rain, and it takes a second to find the tiny human crawling towards her, covered head to toe in the gore mixture. The being has been coming towards her for a considerable amount of time, for a trail of blood follows her, and the trail of blood winds its way around the destruction until it disappears off into the early morning fog.

Bright eyes from the little being seek out her, and they tell her that this person has seen and experienced thing no one should _ever_ experience. The eyes tell a story of a hard life, a reality for every single person now. But it still makes her sad, to think this child (at least it appears to be a child) has had to grow up, and even go beyond plain growing up. This being has been to hell and back. A moan that sounded like 'help' sounded from the crawling persons lips. The voice is tiny, even smaller than what it should be for the frail body. Its voice also sounds feminine, but that also could be a boy's voice, not yet developed in his youth. The greasy, matted hair, which might have once been blond for all she knew, the brown in it could be the mud or even the natural color, was down to the shoulders. This made her assume that it's most likely a girl. Not many boys with that long of hair.

"Please help me." The pitiful voice said, still ever-crawling toward her. The adolescent reach the puddle of blood that surrounded her, still only slightly thinned by the rain. The child paid no heed, after all blood is all the same color, it doesn't makes a difference whose blood it is, because it's all over their body anyway, if only adding a little more amount.

Her eyes scanned the child's body. The first thing noticed is just how _small_ it is. Not necessarily starving, but this child is tiny. The second thing that can be noticed is the grayish color of entrails being dragged behind. Mud is all over them, making them almost invisible, blending them in.

'So that's where all the blood behind her came from' she thought. The child's stomach is torn open.

Sight of this dying child cause her to forget her own dire situation. All she feels is an aching sadness, because this young life is being stolen. Pity fills her heart for the suffering youth.

A viscous growl came from the fog. It's a very primal sound, so obviously one of _them_. The thing comes out of the fog at a full, deadly fast run. Before she can blink the creature is THERE. Its stink, clouding her senses with the stench of its rotting death, surrounded her, blocking out everything in her but stark fear. Relief and dread fills her because it goes for the kid first because the kid is closest. The creature drops to its knees, sinking down low, only to bite deep into the child's meaty calf. A sickeningly wet tearing sound issued, no doubt it was the sound of flesh ripping away. The kid screeched, eyes rolling up into the head, arms flailing around, flapping like a baby bird trying to fly. The _thing_ had a tough time ripping the whole chunk away, probably from the muscle in the calf. But eventually it succeeded. Its teeth gnashing away at the meal.

Her eyes left the grisly scene, seeing that had made her sick, so she leaned to her side and puked. There's nothing in her stomach to come up though, so she only dry-heaved. The effort of this though made her realize, again, that she is dying. She is so very lightheaded now. The slightest turn of her head sends her into a dizzy spell; the world tilts on its axis, spinning her around and around. She closes her eyes to make it all disappear. After a moment the worst is over, and she opens her eyes.

The child is STILL crawling toward her, guts trailing behind. The creature is trying to pull her back, but the child is determined. Blood flows from the deep gouge in her leg. The small hands dig into the mud to stop the pull from behind, mud squishing in between her fingers, and began pulling herself even closer. She is so close now; the kid is almost in her lap.

Her hands somehow have the strength to lift up, and caress the youngster's cheek. The face is wet with gore and other fluids, but beneath that she can feel it is oh so soft. The child's eyes find hers once more, they connect, and neither can look away. Something passes between them, an understanding in a way. But then _it_ decided at that moment to give an extra tug, one full of powerful strength. The child is ripped from her arms, only to be dragging through the mud screaming, into the fog.

The last image of the kid, so desperate in the moment of apparent death, burns behind her eyelids. It is the last thing she sees, and thinks about, before she embarks on her journey to the afterlife.

She is dead, her body cooling fast in the rain. No one will notice her death, or even care, except perhaps the child, but they too are dead. She dies alone.

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_**Sing For Absolution**_

_**by Muse**_

_Lips are turning blue  
A kiss that can't renew  
I only dream of you  
My beautiful_

_Sing for absolution  
I will be singing  
And falling from your grace_

_There's nowhere left to hide  
In no one to confide  
The truth burns deep inside  
And will never die_


End file.
